


Hatsumode

by SadakoTetsuwan



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Fanzine, Hanamura (Overwatch), Japan, Kimono, M/M, New Year's Day, Omikuji, To Ashes, hatsumode, kimono kitsuke, shrine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-23 19:13:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13196733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SadakoTetsuwan/pseuds/SadakoTetsuwan
Summary: “Alright, you’re almost done.”“What else could there be?” McCree asked, holding stock still.“Just this,” Hanzo smiled, shaking the folds out of the haori and holding it out to him. It was the same rust red as the kimono, with the Shimada crest delicately embroidered at the shoulders. It was a little forward, dressing Jesse in his family’s kamon, but putting him in a common kamon simply wouldn’t do.





	Hatsumode

**Author's Note:**

> This was my piece for the 'Beginnings' section of To Ashes, the McHanzo fanzine!

“Hold still,” Hanzo said. “Here.” He took McCree’s wrist, directing his right hand to his hip. “Hold tight.”

"This all seems awful complicated," McCree remarked, frowning at the stack of silk on the hotel room floor next to Hanzo. It was very neat and orderly, but the sheer number of garments and accessories and bits and bobs was dizzying. Not only that, but the under-robe he was currently holding shut seemed a bit small; it barely hit halfway down his shins.

“It’s not so difficult,” Hanzo said, adjusting the collar of Jesse’s _juban_. “Dressing others, however, presents its own challenges.”

He tied the _datejime_ and turned the ends to tighten the knot, the quiet scroop of the Hakata silk confirming the knot was secure before he dared to let go and pick up Jesse’s kimono. He’d managed to find a lovely bolt of rust-red _Oshima tsumugi_ silk, both humble and refined. Hanzo wasn’t about to tell Jesse that it was originally destined for a woman’s kimono, of course; some things didn’t need to be shared.

He slipped it over McCree’s arms and carefully checked the drape of his collars once more, left over right, before tying them in place with the _koshihimo_ hanging limply over his shoulder.

“Tying your obi may take some time,” he explained, securing yet another striped _datejime_ around Jesse’s waist.

“By the time we’re done with all this, darlin’, it’s gonna be _next_ New Year’s,” Jesse sighed, slightly exasperated. He’d already watched Hanzo adjust his own whatchamajiggers for twenty minutes while he dressed himself.

“Silence,” Hanzo said off-handedly, unfurling a long mustard-gold _kaku obi_ with a woven _kenjo-gara_ pattern and wrapping it around Jesse’s waist, just below his belly. “I’m going to pull this tight, so hold still.”

“Gotcha.”

“I mean it,” Hanzo said seriously, “Brace yourself.” He placed one hand between Jesse’s shoulder blades and pulled the obi tight, yanking McCree slightly off-balance.

“Whoa there!”

“I warned you,” Hanzo smirked, winding the length around McCree’s waist once again and giving it another firm tug. At least tying an obi on someone else was easier than on oneself, even if he had to measure and re-measure the folds in the _tare_ . He carefully adjusted the shape of the _musubi_ , tightening and tucking the _tesaki_ in place. A perfect _ichimonji musubi_ —and on his first attempt, even. He nodded to himself and calmly tucked the back of McCree’s hem beneath the bow-like knot, smirking for a moment at the cowboy’s bare legs before returning to the pile of fabric yet to be donned.

“Ain’t this gonna be a little chilly?” McCree asked, looking over his shoulder at the back of his hairy legs with concern.

“You aren’t going out like that,” he scoffed. Hanzo carefully shook out the stiff brocade _hakama_ , the _seigaiha_ pattern the same as the scarf in Hanzo’s hair. He knelt down to arrange the garment and let out a soft sigh. “Alright, step into the legs,” he instructed, coaxing him forward. With the hem of his kimono raised, it was considerably easier than McCree had anticipated, slipping his white-socked feet into each respective leg.

Hanzo carefully arranged the front of McCree’s golden hakama against his rich obi before nodding to the brocade ties dangling from the sides. “Hold these.”

“This is the part that took you forever, ain’t it?” McCree observed as Hanzo stood and slipped around to the back.

“It’s difficult on yourself—this is why there are professional kimono dressers,” Hanzo replied, carefully folding and wrapping and tying the cords around McCree’s waist.

“Uh, not to distract or nothin’, but what if I gotta use the men’s room?” McCree chuckled. Hanzo opened his mouth to reply, but seemed to think better of it as he arranged the back of McCree’s hakama.

“…Just bring me along, I will assist you,” Hanzo replied, moving around to the front and folding brocade into an elegant cross-shaped knot. “Alright, you’re almost done.”

“What else could there be?” McCree asked, holding stock still.

“Just this,” Hanzo smiled, shaking the folds out of the _haori_ and holding it out to him. It was the same rust red as the kimono, with the Shimada crest delicately embroidered at the shoulders. It was a little forward, dressing Jesse in his family’s _kamon_ , but putting him in a common kamon simply wouldn’t do. He carefully slid it on one arm at a time, hooking the white-tufted _haori-himo_ in place and smoothing out the rough silk with satisfaction. Jesse looked quite fetching, if a bit stiff in his new garb.

“Relax,” Hanzo soothed, his hands lingering at Jesse’s shoulders for a moment, smiling up at him. “Get your shoes on. There’s much to do at the shrine.”

* * *

The snow was powdery and light, drifting lazily through the air as Hanzo guided Jesse through the streets of Hanamura. Their rectangular footprints were soon lost among dozens of other sets passing beneath the _torii_ , always politely to one side or the other. A concerned priest kept a careful eye on the temperature of the water in the _chōzuya_ , ensuring that the numerous visitors to the shrine didn’t douse themselves with near-freezing water as they cleansed their hands and mouths.

“Here,” Hanzo murmured, slipping a shiny gold five-yen coin into Jesse’s hand as they approached the altar. “For the offering box.”

“Always forget how many claps an’ bows for shrines an’ temples,” McCree remarked, glancing around; it didn’t look like there was anyone to imitate. “It’s been a while…”

“Follow my lead,” Hanzo chuckled, grasping the rope and holding it out to Jesse. “Two, two, one.”

“Gotcha,” Jesse smiled, swinging the rope and ringing the bell. He tossed his coin in the box and bowed in almost perfect unison with Hanzo, watching him carefully out of the corner of his eye for when to clap. Hanzo exaggerated his movements slightly to give Jesse cues to help him synchronize his motions. Even outside of combat, they made a good team; they read each other well.

McCree hesitated slightly, waiting for Hanzo’s final clap. Would it be rude to finish praying before him? Would he look unthankful? Would the priests and shrine maidens tut behind his back and make judgmental remarks to one another about the foreigner, presuming he didn’t understand Japanese? The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass Hanzo after he put in so much effort—

Clap.

Jesse was startled into clapping as well and sheepishly followed Hanzo away, making room for the next visitors.

“What did you pray for?” Hanzo asked, his brows raised in curiosity.

“If I tell, it won’t come true,” Jesse replied.

“That’s wishes on stars, I believe,” Hanzo smirked. “Either way, we can see if this year will lucky or not,” he added, tugging Jesse’s sleeve playfully and leading him to a small outbuilding with dozens of little drawers and a wall of paper knots. The sign overhead read ‘Omikuji – 100 Yen’, but there was no one minding the shop; clearly, the honor system was in play. Hanzo dropped a few coins into a little slot in the counter, where they clinked and jingled like the offering box in front of the shrine.

“Shake the box until a stick falls out,” Hanzo instructed, gesturing toward a metal box with a tiny hole in the top, barely half a centimeter across. “Then open the matching drawer for your fortune.”

“Heckuva lot more involved than fortune cookies,” Jesse mused, experimentally tipping and rocking the box until a stick slid out abruptly. The kanji were small, but legible despite years of wear. “Hm, 61, 61,” he mused, finding the correct drawer and pulling it open to reveal a piece of paper glaring up at him, bearing a character that certainly didn’t look friendly. “Dang, that’s ‘bad luck’, ain’t it?” he sighed, pulling it out.

“Yes, it is,” Hanzo nodded, wincing slightly and looking at the results. “At least you won’t be ill,” he offered.

“Well, where’s yers?” Jesse asked, frowning.

“Mine is… not much better,” Hanzo laughed, producing his ‘Uncertain’ fortune. “It seems I am going to have an uncertain marriage this year. And I am going to do poorly in school,” he added, smirking. He had _never_ faltered in his studies.

“You ask me, we’d’ve been better off without these dang fortunes,” Jesse remarked. “Jes’ make our own luck, ya know?”

“If you ask _me_ , they purposefully put more bad fortunes in the drawers, to drive sales on charms and amulets,” Hanzo winked, folding their fortunes into narrow strips and tying them to the wall of similar paper strips—each one another bad fortune.

“Maybe we’ll be a bit luckier over there?” Jesse offered, pointing toward stands selling crisp tornado potatoes, fresh fluffy taiyaki, steaming bowls of oden, rich-smelling okonomiyaki, squids on sticks roasted to a surprising purple hue… it was enough to make anyone’s mouth water.

“We can certainly try,” Hanzo replied, slipping his hand into Jesse’s as they walked.

After all, ‘love’ was one area that both of their fortunes had said would be favorable.


End file.
